A Year With Tom

Dear Tom,

It's been an interesting year, hasn't it? We didn't exactly choose each other, did we. We were matched a bit more through necessity than choice, and it's been an interesting year getting to know you.

When you arrived, I was still grieving a vehicle who had given me so many good years and memories. I had been treated poorly by the ones who made you, the ones who released you to me, and other vehicles similar to yourself. So by the time we met, I was both relieved to finally have you and yet wary of you at the same time. For a long time, all I could think was,

You are not Aubergine.

You are noisier than she was.

You are just a bit slower to get everything going in the morning.

Sometimes you're glitchy, and it's annoying.

Your oil changes are more expensive.

And your mileage isn't all that much better.

So I made you prove yourself to me. Over the course of the year, I've put you through the paces a bit to show you how we do things around here, and to see if you could keep up. I've filled your trunk with all manner of things needing to go all manner of places. I've plunked a variety of small, unpredictable people into your back seat. I left you at the airport for five days. I've dragged you all over the city at all times of day. Together, you and I have traipsed through prairies, foothills, mountains. Sunshine, rain, and snow. Keep up; and, you did.

I still find myself thinking,

You are not Aubergine.

Because I can finally listen to my iPod and iPhone through your speakers.

And all your speakers work.

And because your wheels may have had a hard time this winter, but you certainly did not.

You still have a bit of that new car smell.

You have six gears--totally fun.

You have cruise control!

...You're actually a pretty decent little car.

There are still parts of you that are unpredictable. And noisy. But we are starting to create some memories, you and I. And I think I find myself enjoying you.

Her Morning Walk

I'd almost forgotten about her. On a route I don't often take anymore, and a little later in the morning than I travel most of the year, our paths just don't cross. But there she was again. Just like last summer.

If I leave on time so that I pass along the avenue at 8:45 a.m., it's pretty much a guarantee she'll be there. She walks with the wide, semi-shuffling gait of the elderly, and yet, she walks with purpose; marching along in her floral blouse and floppy hat.

As I sail past her on my morning commute, I look at her and wonder:

Where do you come from?

How far do you go?

When did you start walking?

Do you walk year-round?

I wonder if any of the other drivers notice her. Does she notice us? Do any of the 'regular' vehicles stand out to her, as she stands out to me?

I respect this routine she's established for herself. I admire her commitment. I have never been one to stick to a consistent physical activity routine. My physical activity is more sprinkled throughout my week, and often disguised as other activities (i.e. gardening). And especially when it comes to mornings, the only thing I'm intentional about is my coffee.

But there has always been something I've respected about these elderly--the mall walkers, the aquasizers, the summer strollers. Moving regularly in whatever way they can. Keeping their bodies and their brains active. I can only presume that they have realized that if they are still on this earth, they have a purpose, and it likely does not involve sitting around on a couch somewhere watching daytime TV.

So I raise my travel mug and nod to the lady in the floppy hat.

It's good to see you again this morning.

SOTC 95/365

Heading up the Hill, a photo on Flickr by Gina Blank.

New Journeys and Fond Memories

"Ok. Stopping. Damsel officially in distress."

This was the text I sent out, from the side of the highway in rush-hour traffic, the day that Aubergine finally died. She had leaked a lot of coolant, and my mechanic friend and I thought I could make it to his place so he could look at her.

She didn't make it.

My friends came and rescued me, we picked up a trailer, and towed Aubergine back to their place. After a quick look under her hood, I was given my options: I could repair/replace the leak and engine--which would cost more than she was worth--or consider getting a new car a few months earlier than planned.

I signed a DNR on Aubergine. Filled the online donation form for the Kidney Foundation. And prepared my bank account to go car shopping.

The whole experience was a mixed bag of feelings.

Is it weird to say that I grieved my car? Maybe not so much the physical car as much as all the memories and experiences associated within. ...Okay, maybe also the physical car.

I was aiming for September. That would be when I would get a new car. I had anticipated one last summer with Aubergine. A few more months of driving home from work with the windows down and the radio up. Iced coffee in the cup holder instead of hot. A child in the back a couple times a week, excited to go to the best spray park in the city. One more road trip to Saskatchewan. And in a single, overheated engine moment, all those visions became a grey cloud of unknown.

Over the course of the next seven days, I drove seven different vehicles. I borrowed two friend's vehicles to get to work, to the dealership, and run errands. I test drove two different cars. I was pleasantly surprised with the Dodge Dart, so I bought one. In red, even. But soon after driving it off the lot, I realized it was missing features that I was promised it had. Non-negotiable features. I was allowed to drive this car for the next few days while the dealership fixed their mistake, but it was clear that this car would not be a keeper.

The keeper turned out to be grey. And used.* But it had a ton of extra features that I would be getting at no extra cost. And as this was now day seven of not having a car I could call my own, I decided to cut my losses on the colour, and finalize the sale of the grey one. Driving him off the lot, I was admittedly a bit neutral towards him. He still smelled like the previous owner. He shifted a little differently than his red cousin. He was charcoal grey. It was a quiet ride home.

Truth be told, I wasn't all that fond of Aubergine when I first got her. I had spent the previous several years driving around in shiny, red cars, and the car my ex and I had had before her was quite a bit more luxurious (a luxurious lemon, but nevertheless...). Aubergine had a few nice features, but it took me a while to get over the loss of heated seats, a sunroof... and she was eggplant purple with a tan interior. Let's just say, it took some getting used to.

Clearly, Aubergine grew on me.

Early on, I remember the ball head on her gear shift was a little bit loose. Bored at red lights, I would often twist the ball head left and right--just something to keep my fingers busy. At some point, she had been in my mechanic friend's care for the day (tire rotation? Mysterious noise? I don't even remember). When I was driving her home, I came to a red light, and out of habit, gave a little twist. No give! My friend had obviously noticed it when he was driving, and tightened it for me. While I attempted to twist the ball head a few more times, the habit was quickly dropped, and I never really thought about it again for the next five years.

The Dart and I are slowly getting to know each other. He's not a bad little car. He still smells like someone else. And I don't know his name yet. But he likes the same music I do, willingly brings sunshine and fresh air in through his sunroof, and has already proved himself in the bags and boxes I've had to transport over the last few days.

Driving him home the other evening... I'm not even sure what made me do it, but I was waiting at a red light. My hand was tapping gently on the ball head to the beat of the song in my speakers. In the midst of that, my fingers grasped the ball head, and gave it a twist.

It's a little bit loose.

Yup, I think this car might grow on me.



* Considering the Dodge Dart didn't exist before this year**, 'used' is a relative term. It's still a 2013 car, just with a few extra kilometres on it.
** A footnote of my footnote. Can I do that!? I just learned that the Dodge Dart actually DID exist before this year. WAY before this year. My mom informed me, "I believe a Dart was one of your dad's first cars." ...Apples clearly still falling from trees, even when I didn't know the apple was growing.

A Car by Any Other Name...

Please tell me I’m not the only one for whom cars become like another member of the family. Growing up, our family cars always had names. Phrases like, “Can you go get the groceries out of Norm?” or, “Bonnie’s due for an oil change” were common language around our house. I purchased the Honda Civic that I currently drive back in 2005. She was eggplant purple in colour, with a sparkly shimmer. Oh, yes, I knew she was a girl right away. And yet, it was not until several years later that she had a name.

The name has to be right. I tried out a couple names early on, but none of them ever quite fit. And so—while I referred to her as a ‘she’, apologized to her when she got hurt (damn those bullies in parking lots), and kept her looking pretty both inside and out—she remained fairly anonymous. But with all we shared together, it bugged me that I didn’t know her name.

She and I have looped our way through pretty much every street and avenue in the City of Edmonton. We sit in traffic together each morning, breathing in the aroma of my coffee, sharing the sunrise and Mumford and Sons on the radio. Yet, in over 1,000 daily commutes, she didn’t have a name.

Living in Alberta, she has escorted me on countless prairie drives. We have raced the train to Saskatchewan, where I have shared birthday celebrations and Christmas concerts with my nieces and nephew. We have meandered hilly grasslands to spend quiet weekends in my mother’s rural community. She carried me home to Calgary to be with loved ones after my father suddenly passed away. She connects me to my family and closest friends, yet through all this, did not have a name.

We have shared a quiet twenty minutes with a good book when we were too early for work; we have shared ten minutes with that same book while waiting for the train to pass.

We have watched sunsets together, spotted the Northern Lights, driven under canopies of hoar frosted tree branches, and golden autumn leaves.

And still no name.

We have had many adventures together, too. She has driven clear across the city through November slush with a mattress on her head. She cuts through snow drifts as if they were butter. One all-night drive to Jasper found four people and four people’s worth of camping gear filling every inch of her trunk and passenger cavities.

Then there was the all-nighter across the border. In 2009, we ventured a long weekend road trip to Seattle for the first time. The sights of this artistic urban centre, the lure of the outlet mall, and the need for one last summer adventure took two friends and I through the starry night to get there on the Labour Day long weekend.

We let the full moon guide us down through British Columbia. My Honda performed beautifully on what was her first big road trip. She parked flawlessly in the tight spaces of Downtown Seattle on a Saturday afternoon, traversed the Washington Interstate system like a native resident, and did not complain as we loaded the car carrier on her roof with all of our shopping treasures.

The Coquihalla highway, granted, was a bit challenging. On a downward slope, it was all I could do to keep her from barreling along at over 120km/h. Upwards, however, was another story. She climbed as best she could, loaded down with clothes, shoes, and home storage. Still, it was a challenge to keep her above 80-90km/h. Somewhere around the 3^rd or 4^th incline, my friend riding shotgun patted her dashboard to encourage her. “Come on, little aubergine; you can do it!”

“Aubergine?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s French for ‘eggplant.’”

Aubergine.

It fit.

Her name was Aubergine.

I was so glad to finally learn her name. We have shared many an adventure together since that trip. As she ages, I know it’s only a matter of time before she goes to that place where old cars go. She has started to complain in the cold weather. She can’t see as well as she used to. She's had two knee replacements.* She has travelled far and she has travelled well.

I have already started researching my new car. I know pretty much exactly what I want. It's a bit exciting--I am already in anticipation of the newness, the freshness, the technologically-up-to-dateness. ...And then I find myself leaving work, spying Aubergine parked by herself in the distance, and all I see is her. I see the summer tires that I just put on, and I wonder if it's like trading boots for flip-flops to her. I see the very first dent someone left in her driver-side passenger door--wow, that was a long time ago. I see her dusty bumper, evidence of our spring streets that haven't been swept yet; Aubergine, you need a bath. And through the layer of dust, I can also see her purple frame, shimmering a bit in the sunlight.

Please tell me I’m not the only one for whom cars become like another member of the family. We’ve shared so much together—and while I am excited for new adventures with a new travelling companion, I look at Aubergine and think, not quite yet. We still have much music and morning coffees to share. We still have a lot of work to get to here in the city. We still have a couple of prairie road trips we need to take together. I am not ready to make miles with a new friend; creaks and dents and cracks aside, I feel that I still have quite a few miles left to finish with the friend I've got.

"Come on, little Aubergine; you can do it."







* Read: new ball joints

The Richness of Seven

She is 7.
And such a thinker.
In three hours of travel,
the conversation is rich.

We talk about the difference between
hotel
and
motel.
And hostel.

The falling feeling you get sometimes just before you fall asleep.

We talked about the 'incident'
of the family garage.
And what insurance is covering, and what it is not.
"Apparently..."
and she uses the word insurance in context!

She shares funny stories about her brother,
and I share a funny story about mine.

I share a funny story about her, too.

Giggles all around.

She asks what 'contaminated' means.
"Like when a baby poops in the pool, it gets contaminated."

She tells us that Santa brought her a microscope,
but the light didn't work
because the elves had to make more than usual,
so Santa gave Mom and Dad money
to buy a new one,
and he and Mrs. Claus are telling off the elves
for sloppy craftsmanship.

We talk about how each person has 46 chromosomes,
and what happens when you are missing bits of those.
Or what happens when you have an extra.
And what is cerebral palsy?

She spies a string of sodium orange lights on the horizon.
"Is that our city?"
"I... don't think so... your city is bigger. What is the population of your city, anyway?"
"I don't know what 'population' means!"
"It means the number of people..."

"Can I use your iPad?"
And away she goes.

It is quiet for a while.
...
"Are those the lights for our city?"
"I think so, Chica!"
"Yayyyyyy!"

We are home.
And who needs podcasts, anyway?

Autumn Rich

It is five hours from Edmonton to Saskatoon, give or take pit stops. Generally, I stop once in the halfway point of Lloydminster to top up on gas, grab a sub sandwich for supper, and that is it. I have no time to waste--on the way there, I have love and cuteness waiting for me. On the way back, I want to have a few hours to chill before hitting the sack and starting the work week over again. I have never been one to waste time; and I sure as heck am not going to do so on a long, flat, prairie highway.

This drive was different.

It included a few extra stops. On purpose. And it was absolutely lovely.

I was grumbly leaving the city. I had decided to take a coworker home who would otherwise be at the mercy of public transit on a Friday afternoon. She lived right off the main freeway that I would be using to leave town; no big deal. However, in the ten extra minutes it took to drop her off, and stop off at the neighbouring library to quickly grab an audiobook (I had forgotten to load podcasts onto my phone), I hit rush hour, and was about half an hour behind by the time I got to the outskirts of E-town. Unimpressed.

Really, Lord? I do the unselfish thing, and You reward my efforts with traffic?

(Yes, I know it doesn't work quite like that, but in the moment...... and you know you've been there, too.)

I knew I wanted to make a brief extra pitstop for sunset pics, and I knew where I wanted to take those pics, and now I was going to be pushing it to get there in time. The sun drops fast, and I have learned time and time again that you can't chase a sunset.

There was construction in Lloyd and a line up at Subway, delaying my grab-and-go efforts. I just barely made it in time to the granary I had been planning for my pictures. I captured the granary in the warm orange sun, and then spied a country road leading right into the rich glow of the horizon. It afforded several pictures, including a few with a country truck puttering home from the fields. The sun dipped down a bit more, and the moment was over. I had been hoping to get a silhouette of the granary, but still--in the quiet of this rural community, I crossed the tracks back to my car, satisfied. The rush-rush feeling I'd had up to this point was gone, and I hadn't missed the colours.

Thank You.

On Sunday afternoon, I enjoyed a leisurely walk with my eldest niece along the trails lining the South Saskatchewan river. As I was taking in the fall colours--both in and out of the camera--I decided it would be nice to make a couple extra stops on the drive home and see what became of it.

Well, stops aside, the drive home was something else.

As I started west, flock after flock of birds made their way south overhead; rippling black lines of motion across the clear, blue sky. Something in the air had given these creatures the cue that this was the weekend to rise up from their lake homes and start the journey to a warm winter. But such a gentle sight.

I stopped in the Battlefords, at the top of a hill overlooking the valley. I've always driven past the turnoff, wondering what was down the road of this hill. Peace and loveliness; that's what.

Shrubs and grasses--a mix of green, yellow, brown, orange, red--speckled the hill all the way down to the valley where the North Saskatchewan River flows. The waters of this river are the same as those that passed by my own house in Edmonton just a day or two before, and it brings an odd feeling of connection.

The sun is warm. Close your eyes and you wouldn't actually know it's autumn--I should have worn flip flops today. I traipse down the trail a bit. It smells of late summer--crisping leaves and warm grass. The sound of traffic fades away fast, and all I hear are a few grasshoppers above the mild din of the hidden freeway. I snap a few pictures, but mostly I just want to stand and take it all in. It's so warm, and quiet, and lovely.

After breathing deep, and scanning the 180 degree view one more time, I make my way back to my car for the next leg of my prairie trip home.

By the time I pass Lloydminster, the sun has started an obvious descent over Alberta. There is a slight haze in the air--from experience, I know it's probably forest fire haze, though it doesn't smell like it yet. But through my sunglasses, it gives everything a warm, reddish hue as I drive. I have continued to watch flocks of birds moving south and west through the sky. In a rolling field to my right, I see two horses galloping swiftly along; in the dips of the hills, there are patches of fog settling.

I spy a small body of water and turn in--I need to be able to stand in the presence of all of this, pictures or not! As I move around the back of my car, I spy something in the water. A beaver, and I don't even think he's fully grown. I watch him a minute--his cute little face even looking in my direction--but as soon as I move to open the trunk, he swooshes down into the water--gone.

I focus on my sunset, watching three or four little beavers swimming lazily in the water as I move back and forth along the side of the road. It is significantly cooler now--a mere three hours later, and I almost need my jacket. The sun has disappeared behind the trees, and the sky has changed from yellow to orange to pink to purple in less than 15 minutes. I stand for a moment, and breathe deep again. It smells crisp and clear, and just a touch like dew.

When I am overwhelmed with God's rich glories, I find myself using the words 'humbled' and 'awash in awe' together.

Yup.

That would be this weekend; most especially my journey home. What had I been grumbling about on Friday? I have almost forgotten in all the blessing.

I return to my car and drive, wrapped in the peace and beauty of the Creator.

Amen.

SOTC 17/365

After a packed 12-hour work day, the frenetic pattern of the lights kinda reflects the pace of the day's activities...

357/365

When it rains, it pours.

(Notice how you can't really see beyond the traffic lights ahead. That's not fog--that's how thick the rain is.)

320/365

Dress shoes are highly overrated.

317/365

155/365

Friends, tunes, coffee. We are good to go. :)

42/365

Ridin' in the van, sharin' the tunes. Good times, good times. No, wait--the best times. :)

At the Wheel OR 32/365

Today in Alberta, the new Distracted Driving Law went into effect. There are now legal consequences for such activities as (but not limited to):

• using hand-held cell phones
• texting or e-mailing (even at a red light or behind a train)
• using electronic devices like laptop computers, video games, cameras, video entertainment displays and programming portable audio players (e.g., MP3 players)
• entering information on GPS units
• reading printed materials in the vehicle
• writing, printing or sketching, and
• personal grooming

while operating your vehicle.

Admittedly, I have engaged in some of those distracted behaviours myself. I once tried to argue that it was only when I was driving alone. When I have passengers, I would never want to risk hurting them in an accident. The person I was talking to responded, "just everyone else on the road." ...Point taken. Really, I'm glad this new legislation is in place. Sure, it's not a perfect solution--just as photo radar clearly doesn't stop people from speeding permanently. Still, I feel it's a step in the right direction.

I read through the FAQ on the Ministry of Transportation website last week, and some of the questions they posted surprised me. Particularly, "How does this legislation balance the need for safety with the realities of multi-tasking that occur in day-to-day driving?" ...Sorry, what?

...the realities of multi-tasking that occur in day-to-day driving... As if that's the way driving is, rather than the way driving has become. No driver needs to multi-task in the car. We do it because we've become a fast-paced, technology-dependent, time-crunched society.*

You've probably heard of the "Slow Movement", which encourages people to take all aspects of life at a healthier (and often slower) pace. It is about reducing the rush-rush mentality, and creating room to live more purposefully and meaningfully. Faster and more are not always better.

I love how people think this is some new idea. It's not. It might just be that the some of the ways our ancestors did life before urbanization and the inundation of technology might actually have been a good way to do things. Go figure. As an introvert who hates moving from one activity to the next without down time, and as someone who can't handle that rushed feeling being thrown at her, my thought when I first heard about the Slow Movement was, it's about freaking time this lifestyle became trendy.

As much as I already embrace things like down time, cooking my own meals, planting a garden, engaging children in natural play, reading a book instead of immersing myself in multimedia... I still fall prey to my iPod, my cell phone, and most certainly the computer. I also fall prey to the need to always be doing something; not rushing--I hate that feeling--more just not being bored or inactive. Heaven forbid I actually sit alone with my thoughts and maybe with God for five minutes. Must. Fill. Empty. Space. ....Right.

And then so many of my activities are dictated by my needing a car to get there. I am in my car a lot.

Appreciating the value of the Slow Movement doesn't mean I plan on giving up my car or anything. Generally speaking, I love to drive. And our transit system kinda sucks. But I think I can be more proactive in how I spend my drive time.

• I don't need to call that person right away; I will be wherever I'm going soon enough (and if I do need to call that person right away, I can pull over). 
• I can put on lip gloss before I start moving.
• I can sit patiently at a red light for the whole minute or less that it's red (rather than squeezing out three more words of a text message).
• I can eat lunch at the office. It is not in my job description to scarf down lunch while I'm driving; I put that on myself.

This new legislation is kinda like a fresh reminder. What are my priorities when I'm driving? What makes me feel like I have to multi-task in the car? What am I doing behind the wheel?

* It still blows my mind that there are people who try to do things like brush their teeth while driving. How do you even do that? I can't even brush my teeth and text at the same time, let alone brush my teeth and drive. ...And yes, I have found myself in a place where I was brushing my teeth and texting--but that's a different story.

On the Road Again OR 4/365

Off to Saskatoon to visit some of my favourite people!

The Unexpected

It snowed last night. Which means drivers everywhere today are moving more slowly on the slick roads; cautious drivers would be driving backwards if they went any slower. I was following one such car this afternoon on my way to respite. While several drivers around me were driving at ten km/h under the posted limit--acceptable for the snowy road conditions--this guy was twenty km/h under. Surely we can do a little better than this, I thought. So, in typical Edmontonian fashion, I pulled into the left lane to pass him.

Now, I think it is human habit to glance at the driver of the car that you are passing as you go by. Don't try and tell me you haven't. We seem to have this urge to see who the heck was slowing us down. "Grandpa." "Crazy woman driver." "Punk teenager." "Dude on his cell phone." This afternoon, I was betting on the Grandpa stereotype, given the make of the car. ...I was wrong.

I start gaining on him. I am almost parallel with his vehicle. I'm there. I glance discreetly to the right. And as happens every so often, he glances back at me. No grandpa. No punk. No cell phone.

Clown.

Full on white make-up, goofy painted smile, big hat, and red nose clown.

Suffice it to say, I was caught off-guard. I think I had fully passed him before my brain registered what it had seen. And since my brain didn't quite know how to respond (the normal "I knew it" or "sigh, winter drivers" response didn't apply), laughter came out instead.

Which I suppose is the purpose of a clown.

Txtng + Drvng

I don't get vocally passionate about a lot of things, but there are a range of safety issues that totally get me riled up when people just don't use common sense: driving impaired; not wearing a seat belt; not wearing a bike helmet; and, as technology has made it an issue, texting while driving. Seriously, how does anyone think this is functional?

(Head's up, this video is quite graphic in the first 60 seconds)


And while that video is a dramatization, those exact scenarios do play out in real life:



Srsly.

The Day That Rocked!

I can't even describe how much today has rocked, but I'm sure as heck gonna try. From the moment I got up this morning, the day has just rolled out so nicely!

1. Apparently, I woke up at the exact right moment in my sleep cycle, because despite only six hours of sleep, I did not have to drag myself out of bed, and did not have the usual almost-Friday function inertia to deal with.

2. I think this was the first day since my new condo-for-sale-cleaning-regime that I got out the door on time!

3. Despite my uncharacteristic a.m. get-up-and-go, I still decided to play it safe and have my morning coffee. And why brew your own when Starbucks is offering free coffee to promote eco-friendly beverage holders? I have a beverage holder. I like free coffee.

3b. And I especially like their Pike Place blend. I couldn't actually tell you if it tastes superior to other blends. I don't drink any one coffee frequently enough to know one blend's taste intuitively. But it's called the "Pike Place" blend. It's a good coffee on the name alone! (and if you don't get why there's a warm fuzzy association, you need to follow up this post by reading here and then here).

4. Spent the morning with Cutie #1. Spent a good chunk of that time outside under the cloudless sky. While an April Alberta morning is still a bit 'crisp', the sun was warm through the clothing, and so refreshingly bright!

5. Drove to Cutie #2's house with the car window rolled down.

6. My otherwise usual lunch today was accented with fruit salad from JM. One thing we agree on is that fruit salad actually needs to be fruit salad. Not just honeydew and canteloupe chunks. In fact, no honeydew or canteloupe chunks. Grapes, apple, orange, mango, blackberries, and raspberries--that's what was in my fruit salad. And like I told JM, it was like summer time in my mouth!

7. Spent the afternoon with Cutie #2. Also spent a good chunk of that time outside under the [still] cloudless sky. Except even better cuz now it was warm enough that I didn't need the hoodie.

8. Played in awe as Cutie #2 conquered new things and showed off new skills!

9. Drove home with the car window rolled down.

10. Sat on the deck for 45 minutes enjoying still more sunshine and a good book.

11. Ate supper that I didn't have to make myself.

12. Drove (still with the window down) to the River Valley for my first ever Edmonton Outdoor Club (EOC) event. I scaled Glenora Stairs (202 stairs from the bottom of the valley to the top) 4 1/2 times, followed by a 90-minute walk along the trails in the setting sun. Flexed my social self in a new setting (this might come back to bite me later). Educated people about special needs. And, as one lady pointed out to me, was not huffing and puffing by the end of it.

13. Came home. Treated my well-worked legs and feet to a hot bath before settling on the couch for CSI.

I have now reached bed time. It is cozy there among the pillows, blankets, and felines. A perfect ending to a perfect day.

Fourteen Hours

That's how long it takes to drive from Edmonton, AB, to Seattle, WA. It includes 4-5 brief stops along the way for gas, food, and pee breaks. It assumes the roads are in good condition (which they were), and it assumes no major traffic issues (of which there were none). It does not (and cannot), however, presume anything on a qualitative level.

The sun was on the rise as JM and I took to the highway. While I could probably be swayed to do a through-the-night road trip again if the circumstances necessitated it, it felt almost like a treat to be able to do most of the drive during daylight. We watched the vast white Alberta farm fields and snow-capped Rockies disappear into interior British Columbia desert. And then we watched that disappear into the lush, green coastal state of Washington. We stepped out of winter and into a reprieve of spring.

Fourteen hours allows for a lot. First there was the Creepy Green Jetta. We passed him between Edmonton and Jasper. He was elderly, with a flamingo pink shirt hanging in the back window. And when we passed, he gave us a slow, creepy, wiggly-fingers wave. We shuddered a quick "ew" and continued on. We topped up in Jasper, grabbed lunch, and got back on the road. Within an hour we were on the BC stretch of the trip. Early in, mind you, I noticed an oddly familiar-looking car. "Is that that green Jetta?" I asked. Sure enough, as we passed, we were given another slow, creepy, wiggly-fingers wave by the elderly man we had seen before. Did he wave to everyone who passed him like that? Or were we 'special'? Fortunately, we kept ahead of him after that.

Then there was the devil himself. AKA U-Haul. There was a curiously high ratio of U-Haul trucks and trailers on the highways between Edmonton and Seattle, I thought. Every time we passed one, I was forced to mutter "spawn of Satan" under my breath, but was simultaneously impressed that they were actually moving, and not broken down at the side of the road. I'm not bitter, by the way. At one point... we had made a pit stop in Hope, and while you can get back on the Northbound highway from the exit we took, you can apparently NOT get back on the Southbound highway, which is what we wanted. So we backtracked a bit, until I could exit off on a secondary highway. From there I noticed a small roadside turnout. JM alluded to just pulling a full U-turn from the road and not bothering with the turnout, but I was bent on getting my car back in the right direction as conservatively as possible, apparently. All around the roadside turnout were trees, so it was not until I was actually in the turnout that I noticed the abandoned U-Haul trailer sitting there. I gasped. From beside me in the dark, I heard, "I told you not to turn here."

...You can explore a lot conversationally in fourteen hours. The lyrics in music; the plot lines of favoured TV shows; the circumstances of life, friends, and work; the character of God. Customs officers, apparently, don't realize this. We pulled through the border at Sumas (always cross at Sumas--skip the Peace Arch), and were asked the standard questions. Then she got into the seemingly random and unusual questions. Which we were fine providing answers for. But near the end of her inquisition, she asked--with a slightly incredulous tone--"you drove twelve hours just for the weekend?" Um, yes, actually. And we still have two to go. And not only that, we've done it before. AND, I know of others who have driven longer for the same amount of vacation time. How rare did she think this kind of thing was? Seriously.

We arrived at the hotel in Bellevue NOT exhausted, and with time enough to spare before bed to check out the hot tub. I could have spent 14 hours there, too. But alas, Bellevue and Seattle were waiting.

Just Add Snow...

The last 48 hours have been either a test in perseverance or a testament to perseverance--not quite sure which; but what a time has been had!

Thursday evening's weather forecasters were handing out snow warnings on the radio. I hadn't yet purchased new snow boots, because up until this point, there hadn't been any 'real' snow, so I made a point of stopping by Mountain Equipment Co-Op after work, and picked myself up of boots that totally match my winter coat, have faux fur trim, and have an Active Temperature Rating of -40. There was a slightly more expensive pair with an ATR of -100C, but I just felt like that was a bit excessive, even for Canada. :) ...Plus they weren't as stylish.

Anyway, the boots were bought just in the nick of time, as the snow was already above my ankles by the time I woke up Friday morning. Of course, I had to go for a school visit out in a rural community outside of Edmonton. Because this was the 3rd attempt at this visit in the last month, there was not a lot I was about to let stop me from getting out there. So I gave myself some extra time, pulled on the new boots, and headed out. The normally 25-minute drive was 45 minutes, but it was a fairly uneventful trip out. The highway was actually relatively better than the city roads, which were accumulating with snow and creating ruts all over the place. I had bigger challenges moving through the residential neighbourhood of my afternoon family!

I had originally planned to go walking around the Legislature grounds Friday evening with a friend to check out the Christmas lights and listen to a choir, but the snow was still actively blowing by the time I got home from work, so I nixed those plans and stayed home. Instead, I put productive energy into editing photos I had taken for my respite family the night before. I was toast by about 10pm, so I headed to bed. I figured it would be good to get a nice solid sleep, as I was selling photo cards at my church's annual Craft and Bake Sale in the morning. I changed my alarm to get me up at 7:45.

At 8:45am, I woke up. I had changed the alarm time, but had NOT actually set the alarm. Considering 8:45 was when I had planned on heading out the door, I knew I had to move FAST. I bypassed showering, hair straightening, contact lenses, and breakfast, and left my condo in a bit of disarray, but I was ready and out the door in 20 minutes! Because I had actually allotted about 15 minutes to run an errand on the way, I skipped the errand and still made it to the church on time!

Now, keep in mind, the snow had kept falling throughout the night, so now there was a good foot-and-a-half of snow behind my car. If I didn't have to be out today, I wouldn't have been. With my neighbour on stand-by (who happened to be shoveling himself out at the same time), I put my car in reverse and gave 'er. My little Honda cut through that snow drift like it was butter! I was SO impressed! It was definitely more of an effort after this to work through the ruts and drifts and snow banks on the way to the church hall, but not nearly as treacherous as I was expecting, and my little car did not let me down!

The craft and bake sale went fairly well. I had never sold or even attended one of my church's craft and bake sales, so I had no idea if or how much the snow (and recession, for that matter) was impacting the number of people that came through. In five hours, I only had about 25 customers, which isn't a lot, but it worked out to over 100 cards (mostly sold in sets of 5). I made way more cards than I needed, but certainly better than not making enough! (If you need Christmas cards, let me know--I have a box full! ...Proceeds go towards a Kenya mission project.) I consumed several cups of tea throughout the course of the day, watched the snow from the inside, and marveled at the fact that people were buying my work!

The drive home was just as drift-filled, plus the added bonus of higher traffic volume, but again, I was not let down by my car. I would have gotten stuck in my parking stall if I'd tried to force my car in, but I let my neighbour shovel my spot out instead. This evening was supposed to be another outdoor Christmas venture with a friend, but she and I both agreed that it was not worth it, and opted for an evening home instead. I got yesterday's edited photos onto a CD, downloaded some Christmas tunes for the child I'm working with, and started some Christmas baking.

Tomorrow I am headed to JP's place to watch "Up!" with the girls. It's s'posed to be a cute movie. I follow that up with some evening respite, and then crazy-Christmas-week 2 of 3 starts on Monday! It's s'posed to stop snowing overnight tonight, and then get really cold for the next several days. I'm not sure which I'd rather have. Constant snow fall or clear but COLD. ...Either way, at least my feet will be warm.